Homo with an F in Dick
by lostlikeme
Summary: (Prequel to Christmastime with the Strider-Lalondes) Dirk and Roxy get shitfaced while celebrating their birthday together and accidentally make a person or two. Warning for explicit content.


The two of you are celebrating your birthday together, like you do every December. The booze allowance is excessively grandiose tonight, because Roxy's mom is out on another one of her lesbian conquests. You're pretty certain those were her exact words when she told it to you early this morning. Now, it's dark out, and you're running short on excuses for why this isn't a good idea.

"Let's make babies," Roxy slurs into your mouth an hour later. She waggles her eyebrows at the mistletoe across the room. "Close enough," she whines.

You could just tell her, but you end up kissing her quiet instead. She tastes like Bud Light and watermelon lip gloss, which is girlier than you prefer, but it's nice to be held by someone who actually gives a shit.

"I'm gay," you remind her seriously.

Roxy shakes her head with a sloppy grin. "It doesn't count if we're both drunk."

That sounds wrong even after three shots of whisky, so you throw back two more to take the edge off. The basement blurs when you straighten and stick your tongue down her throat.

"He's gonna have my eyes," Roxy insists when she can manage coherency. She clasps a hand on your shoulder and offers a lopsided smile. "But I hope he's got your butt," Roxy confesses solemnly. "You have the cutest butt," she coos.

It strokes something in your ego, and you loathe how easily you're getting off on the attention. "I do have a cute butt," admits the narcissist in you. Isn't that all of you? All you can smell is the wine coolers on the roof of your mouth and your own aftershave.

"I can't get pregnant 'cause it's my first time," Roxy says, but the words all slosh together.

That doesn't sound right either, even given your limited practical knowledge, but the urgency of the thought slips between your fingers after Roxy almost falls over mixing another alcoholic eggnog. She spills it down the front of her dress on the way back from the bar. It's so perfectly contrived but clumsy that you can't discern if it's on purpose. She tries peeling the fabric off like a sexy stripper, but it gets caught around her shoulders and you end up having to help her out of it.

Your laugh is forced, but not entirely fake. "So you've never actually done this before?"

"Shut up," Roxy says. "You've haven't slept with a guy yet either."

"Touche."

Her lips slide against your neck, slippery and hot. Your heartbeat is in your crotch when she unzips your pants and says something like, I can make it even hotter. She unhooks her bra to reveal two pale breasts with dark pink nipples. She looks good pulling them from on the floor with her tongue against the length of your cock. You realize she's going to suck you off.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, stunned by her tenacity.

"What?" Any remaining ability to enunciate is effectively muffled by the dick in her mouth. She pulls away with a slick pop and you twitch in her grasp. "I always wondered what this would be like."

It's really tripping your trigger how she's this into you, even if you know in the back of your mind you don't really feel the same. You always imagined you'd be more in control, especially with a girl, but Roxy has her fingers wrapped around your dick. She sucks as shamelessly as any real slut, with hollowed cheeks and hair plastered on forehead from sweat. You're just relieved you can stay hard.

"Dirk," she says, when her mouth is free. "Baby. Are you really gonna fuck me?"

The surge of power sends your adrenal glands into overdrive. "Yeah," you tell her. The furthest she's gone before this is when she tripped in church and fell into Jake's waiting arms. You remember it distinctly because of the spike of jealousy that flooded your blood. "I'm gonna fuck you good."

You find out that fingering is kind of like playing video games, and you're very, very skilled at video games. There's a fair amount of transference between the skills. That, or Roxy is as shitfaced as you are. Her knees lock up when you jab her clit with your thumb, the muscles in your arm rigid from maintaining the awkward position.

"Okay," she says, gripping your wrist until you slow to a stop. "Let's do this."

"Alright," you manage breathlessly. "We're doing this." Rocky giggles. "We're making this happen."

This is it: the full sex, no take-backs. You search your wallet for a condom you know isn't there. Your school practices an abstinence only program, and the drug store walking distance to your house has a clerk that personally knows your entire family.

"I swear," Roxy says, crossing her heart solemnly. It's like she can read your mind. Or, you know, your body language. You take a moment to ease the tension between your brows. "I don't think you can even get pregnant if you're drunk," she says, and somehow that's the most sensible thing you've heard all night.

The chemicals probably prevent fertilization. She agrees that your logic is sound. You spread her pussy open and lick your lips. It feels like your heartbeat is rattling your entire rib cage.

"Are you sure?" you ask, more for yourself than for her. You push two fingers back inside her. "You're really tight."

Roxy smiles and pulls you down into another kiss. She slips a hand between your bodies to correct your alignment before you inch forward, desperate and shaky. The tip dips into her hole when you crane your hips forward. The first breach is volcanic, you shudder and try to swallow, but your mouth is dry. Halfway through the wet channel, resistance impedes your descent.

"Roxy," you warn, when she winces. "I don't wanna hurt you."

She bites on her bottom lip and looks incredibly vulnerable, but not helpless. "C'mon D-Stri," she gasps. "If someone's gonna pop my cherry, it should be you."

That definitely isn't sound logic, but you're too drunk to pull out and have a talk about it now. Instead of dragging it out, you take a deep breath and thrust the rest of the way inside her. It feels like snapping a rubber band. Her thighs tremble and she stays silent until her clit bumps the pubes below your belly.

"Fuck," you curse.

You want to ejaculate immediately. You've only masturbated on a handful of occasions, once over the image of a JCPenney underwear model, and then to the thought of fucking your best friend. Your other best friend. The dick with a dick, otherwise known as Jake English. Both times you felt guilty afterward. You don't actually believe in god, but sometimes the insurmountable fear of what if sinks you, because then you're definitely going to hell. Not just for being gay either. No, that's just the tip of the shameful iceberg.

Roxy pulls you back to reality by matching your next thrust. Every time you cycle forward there's a wet squelch from where your dick is rammed inside her. She rolls her hips and rides your cock so well you actually have to put significant effort into staving off an orgasm.

"Wait," you warn her. "Not yet."

"I'm close," she reassures you. Her eyes are glossy and it makes you feel the same as when you had to throw that crusty magazine in the trash. "Stuff me full."

You plug her pussy over and over, keeping her knees spread for better leverage. She squeaks every time you mark a certain spot with your cock, so you shift the angle and mash the button between the lips of her cunt like you're placing first in a Mario Party minigame. You glide between her legs so seamlessly it's like she's been saving all this soak for years.

"Jizz inside me," might be the single sexiest thing you've ever heard to date. You edge the precipice while Roxy contracts around you, like she's starved for your spunk.

"Yes," she repeats like a mantra. "Yes, yes, shit, yes!"

She practically pulls the load from your ballsack with the force of her orgasm, and you end up gripping her ankles too hard and biting the skin of her neck while you ride out the aftershocks. It's fair play after the way she clawed your back. Everything feels raw and distorted after it's over, and for minutes after you still have trouble catching your breath.

Eventually, you go back to feeling like you're the worst person in the world.

"Not half bad," Roxy says when you roll off her.

"You should see me when I'm sober," is about the worst possible thing you could say.

The two of you snuggle close on the mattress, lonely, but not alone. She sleeps with her mouth open but the noise has only become a comfort to your ears, like falling asleep with the television in the background. The last thought before sleep takes you stills your soul in its shell. Your mom is going to be pissed if you knocked up a white girl.

Dave's jaw drops when you finish speaking. "Um…"

"What?" you snap. "It's the truth." You turn to Dave with a stony expression. "That's how you two were conceived."

Roxy appears blissfully lost in nostalgia behind him. Rose looks more amused than she has any right. For the first time, you hear the emptiness of the room. Pandora asks if you still want to keep listening to shitty christmas carols.

Rose folds her hands primly in her lap. "I suppose you could have spared us some of the...grittier details."

"Like you got any room to talk," you huff defensively. "You're the one who asked to hear it!"

"Now now," Roxy says over the rim of a martini. "It's christmas."

"I'm traumatized," Dave complains. He's probably rolling his eyes behind his shades. He throws his hands up in the air with a deep sigh. "And you wonder why we're like this."

You wrap an arm around Roxy to pull her close and steal a sip of booze from her glass. You don't wonder, you already know.


End file.
